


Tangled Up

by epiproctan, flyingisland



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Consentacles, Established Relationship, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tentacle Monsters, Tentacle Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 07:30:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16300736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epiproctan/pseuds/epiproctan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingisland/pseuds/flyingisland
Summary: Lance, Keith, and Shiro find themselves quite literally wrapped up in a precarious (and sexy) situation.





	Tangled Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TLaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TLaw/gifts).



In the dense jungles of the planet Pulpa, deep within the belly of the dark trunks of gnarled trees, the muddy trenches, the gray fog so thick that it might as well be a velvet noose tied tight around the world here, choking the oxygen from the lungs of any foolish alien without a helmet or an adequately filled tank of oxygen, the natives whisper of a legend.

They worship a God that lives deep in the darkest depths of the caverns—a mysterious, benevolent God which offers safety, prosperity, and the thriving growth of delicious jungle fruits as long as its followers make a grand sacrifice during the rainy season of every deca-phoeb.

This God is rumored to have existed in the furthest reaches of the caverns for centuries, spotted fleetingly by hunters and gatherers who rarely lived to tell the tale. The locals warn travelers to steer clear of the caves, to stick to higher ground, to never trust a vine that moves too fluidly, to keep a close eye on children, or pets, or members of their ranks that might be prone to wandering away.

It’s a strange, terrifying story. It’s a tale so old and passed down among the Pulpians that the words themselves feel crinkled and fragile with age.

But Lance thinks that legends are generally bullshit. And right now, as he trudges in calf-high water in the deep, dark throat of a cavern so bottomless that he isn’t sure if it’ll ever end—

Right now, he doesn’t feel scared. He isn’t worried about monsters or Gods, or unreliable stories of passing sightings of a creature that probably doesn’t even exist.

Right now he just feels cold. 

He isn’t quiet about his complaints, either, but very rarely does he see the point in being quiet about much of anything. 

He’s trailing some ways behind Shiro, who at least has the decency at first to pretend that he feels bad for Lance, about their situation, and all of the questionable decisions that might have led them in here. Further ahead, Keith has activated a floodlight that Pidge fitted to his suit. It’s bright enough that it illuminates all of the dark corners of the cavern, but Lance isn’t entirely sure that seeing the stalagmites, the weird, oozing goo that seems to be coating everything in here, and the various alien nests mysteriously vacant is making him feel much better about their current surroundings.

They’d been called to this planet on a simple backup mission. Pulpa, a new addition to the rebellion, still struggles to stand on its own feet. There’s a mineral here—or a gas, or some sort of valuable… _ thing  _ that Lance doesn’t care enough to remember right now. And it’s rare enough that the Galra forces continue to send fleets to recover it.

They’d thought, at first, that their mission would be as simple as providing assistance, taking down a few soldiers, shooting down a few ships. They’d thought that the three of them—himself, Shiro, and Keith—would be enough to abate the Galra long enough for other rebellion forces to arrive and man a post here.

But the lions had trouble navigating the thick throngs of trees without damaging them. This place is a home, before all else, and Shiro had reminded both of them to be mindful of that. They’d decided, foolishly, that they’d travel here in Black, hide it somewhere discreet where the Galra couldn’t uncover it, and take down the few stationed soldiers on foot.

That worked well enough in theory. But when the bullets flew, when they were pushed back further and further, their only choice was to take cover in one of the many caverns, to call for backup, and to wait until things cleared up enough so they could finish the job that they came here for.

He isn’t sure whose idea it had been to hide here, and he isn’t sure why they’re only continuing to travel deeper and deeper into the cave. He thinks that, maybe, Keith believes that it will let out somewhere, that perhaps the locals told them that they’d spotted their God while traversing through these interconnected tunnels, but he can’t say that he was paying very close attention to much of anything all day.

He’s a human with flaws, he can’t blame himself for that. Before they’d embarked on today’s mission, he’d had a lot of trouble wiping the image of Keith and Shiro’s sparring session out of his head. He’d tucked himself against the wall as they’d went at it. He’d made a point of sitting this one out, just so he could enjoy the show.

And maybe he should have joined them, if he’d known that he wouldn’t be given the opportunity to blow off some of that pent up steam. Before he could drag the two of them away to a dorm room to do just that, Allura and Sam had called them into the conference room to discuss the S.O.S. that they’d received from Pulpa. Maybe, if his plans hadn’t been cut so tragically short, he could have listened to that wrinkly old tribe leader rattle off some breathy speech about Gods, and the spirit of the jungle, and why the Hell this planet has so many Godforsaken caves in the first place.

But he’s only human. He has needs. And even if their Paladin armor doesn’t show a whole lot of skin, he can’t deny, at least to himself, that Shiro’s backside had looked a lot more appealing in his suit than that old guy’s wrinkly, melted candle of a face.

It’s dark enough in here that even the heat of his own libido can’t keep him warm. He can’t make out even the slightest trace of Keith or Shiro sans the black blobs of them moving just behind the light. Shiro has long since given up any futile attempts to comfort him, maybe realized belatedly that Lance isn’t going to stop complaining no matter how many reassuring things he manages to say. And Keith has been making a valiant effort to ignore him since they all sneaked in here, which doesn’t surprise him, and doesn’t even manage to disappoint him in the least.

Complaining is all that he can do right now to keep himself sane. Really, if he’s honest with himself, he’s really only doing it to hear himself talk. It’s a comfort in and of itself. The sound of his voice echoed on vast, dark walls. The vibration of it humming in the thin air and the cold water, fooling him into thinking that they’re safe here. There isn’t a monster lurking in these tunnels. This viscous, goopy substance slathered over the cave walls is just some kind of alien… cave goo. It’s not the aftermath of some awful, slimy creature passing through here just moments before their group is following behind.

 

He feels a shiver run up his spine. He wraps his arms tighter around himself, feeling awkward when the hardness of his suit rubs against itself, feeling frigid no matter how much he shakes.

“Can we please stop for a little bit? I mean, what are we even trying to do now? Get even more lost?”

Shiro turns, and Lance can’t see his smile, but he knows that it’s there. And it’s comforting and soft, and maybe just a little bit tired. Keith’s murmuring up ahead is lost in the booming echo of their legs kicking through the water. Sound feels as though it’s coming from all around them. Keith’s light flickers for a fraction of a moment, just long enough that Lance’s heart lodges itself high up in his throat.

“The locals said that all of these caves let out somewhere,” Keith calls back, over his shoulder as he continues to push forward, “If we can get out before the Galra find us, maybe we can sneak back to the Black Lion and wait for backup.”

Lance knows that this is a good plan. He knows that he’d much prefer sitting, dry and warmer, in a lion to standing any longer than he needs to in this horrible, claustrophobic place. But he can’t shake the feeling that they’re headed towards something terrible. He can’t stop himself from thinking about the clipped pieces of conversation that he managed to catch from their lengthy discussion with the Pulpians when they got here.

He doesn’t like this one bit, and he especially doesn’t like it when Shiro moves even further ahead, leaving a wide gap between himself and Lance as he rounds Keith, kicking through the water next to him and discussing something hurriedly in a voice so hushed that Lance can only hear the hiss of it. 

But something that he says stops Keith. He stills in the water, flicking his flashlight to the wall to his right, then the ceiling, the watery floor. And just close enough to Lance’s general direction that the light doesn’t completely blind him.

“I don’t know,” Keith says then, slow and curt, loud enough that the sound of it seems to shudder in the walls, “It might just be part of the ecosystem, but… there wasn’t anything like it outside, was there?”

Shiro bites his lip. They’re facing Lance now, and Keith’s light illuminates his face just well enough that Lance can make out the worry creasing his features.

“It definitely looks like it was left behind by something, and recently too. Didn’t the Pulpians say that their God was… moist?”

Lance crinkles his nose. He definitely remembers that part of the conversation, and he still can’t imagine how anyone in their right mind could possibly worship a _ moist _ God.

He’s met some pretty interesting aliens in his time out here. He’s met some cute ones, some sweet ones, some really gorgeous ones. He’s met ones he doesn’t particularly want to meet again, because they were horrifying or disgusting or dangerous. And sitting here, he finds himself hoping that this “God” happens to fall into the former category and not the latter. Because there are two things of which he is certain: first, this God is likely not a god by any definition he has, and just an alien who holds some kind of power and religious significance to the locals. And second, knowing their luck, they’re about to meet it. 

“Maybe we should give Allura another call?” he says. “Let her know where we are?”

Not that Lance knows where they are. He does in the general sense that they’re in a cave system on an unfamiliar planet, trapped in on one end by Galra gunmen with a potentially dangerous creature as their only company, but he’s hoping Allura can trace their coordinates and provide some kind of quick extraction so they don’t have to deal with either of those things. 

“I’ve already talked to her,” Shiro says, but his voice is slow and absent-minded. He’s distracted by the troughs of water he and Keith are still kicking around in, leaned over like if they stare at it long enough they can determine exactly what it oozed out of. “She’ll be here soon.”

Lance puts his hands on his knees and bows his head to get a good look at it too, though in the dancing beam of Keith’s flashlight and the weak glow of his own armor, he can barely even tell what color it is. It definitely gleams with the sheen of jelly-like wetness, though, and the more Lance squints at it to determine its consistency, the more curious he feels about it. 

Something tickles at his ankle, but he gives it a thoughtless shake without looking away from the water. They’re in a cave, and so far he’s seen a few things resembling cave crickets if cave crickets had sixty legs and one big, unblinking eye. If one of those just landed on his foot he’d rather stay in ignorant bliss until it’s well off his person. 

But the pressure of the touch doesn’t disappear when he tries to shake it off. In fact, it spreads, climbing up past his ankle and pressing against his calf. Lance gives another frustrated kick, now  _ really _ not wanting to know what’s on him, but suddenly whatever it is is constricting around him. 

He can’t not look anymore. With his heart in his throat he glances down to see what’s gotten a hold on him. 

Immediately he has to click his teeth closed around the yelp that threatens to bubble out. Something long and tapering and supple like the tail of a snake has wrapped its way around his leg. The end of it, a narrow, rounded point, slithers around the width of his calf like a curious pet sniffing at him, while the other end trails off into the darkness behind him. Where it’s wrapped around his ankle it’s not constricting or tight. In fact, its warmth and gentleness feels nice against the chill of the cave. 

Sometimes as a kid Lance used to put snakes and worms he found in the dirt in his siblings’ hair to watch them scream and panic. So it’s not like things like this bother him. This...cave-worm-snake is no exception, even though he can’t make out its full length in the darkness. It’s pretty warm for something that he’s used to being cold-blooded back on Earth, and somehow that makes it seem almost...cute? Lance finds himself curious. 

“Hey little buddy,” he says, crouching down to see it better. Its surface is smooth and gleams in the dark with some kind of coating. Lance  _ knows _ that alien life forms can be sly, insidious, but there’s nothing about it that’s sending up red flags for Lance, even in the darkness of the cave. When he extends his hand down towards it, its tip rises to meet him and caresses a damp line down his pointer finger before returning to its task of exploring the crook of his knee. 

“Where are you going?” he asks it in an amused, small voice, not expecting to get an answer. 

But he does get one in the form of Keith asking exasperatedly, “Lance, who are you talking to?”

Keith’s flashlight swings in his general direction, and Lance blinks in the sudden brightness. 

“Just this uh…,” he starts to say, gesturing down towards his leg, but doesn’t have the chance to get a full sentence out.

“What the hell is  _ that _ ?” Keith says. The clatter of his flashlight falling to the ground echoes back from the walls of the cave as his bayard flashes into his hand. 

“Wait wait wait!” Lance shouts, holding up both his hands open-palmed in front of him as Keith charges towards him with his sword aloft. He can still feel the warmth of the creature tracing up his leg, but it’s not invasive. It’s friendly and considerate. “Hold up, hothead! It’s not hurting me.”

Keith, expression drawn into a deep frown, pulls up to a quick stop in front of Lance. His sword is still at the ready, pointed uncomfortably close to Lance’s leg, but he glances from Lance’s face to the thing wrapped around him. He’s washed in the blue glow of Shiro’s prosthetic when Shiro nears to gets a closer look. 

“It’s not hurting you  _ yet _ ,” Keith says, not taking his eyes off the creature scaling higher and higher up Lance. 

“I don’t like this,” Shiro agrees, his hands on his hips. “Lance, I think you should get your foot out of there.”

Lance gives his leg a halfhearted wiggle, but it’s definitely attached to him now. He leans down with a sigh and begins to pry it off, gently grabbing it close to the end and beginning to unwrap it from around his leg. But as he does, it threads its way around his wrist, and the more he pulls off his calf, the higher towards his elbow it creeps. 

“Okay team,” Shiro says, eyeing Lance’s efforts. “No sudden movements. Let’s not frighten it into attacking. I’ll call Allura and find out how far she is.”

Shiro splashes through the water as he puts some distance between them. His voice echoes softly through the cavern around them, filling the darkness with the vibrations of it but wholly indecipherable once all of the syllables, the residual pangs of it against the rocks and water, and the splashing meld together into a low, resonant buzz.

Lance doesn’t have the opportunity to spy on him anyway, and he has a feeling that his current conversation is mundane enough that he wouldn’t even want to. At the current moment, the creature is coiling tighter around his arm. It leaves a thin layer of something viscous and sticky in its wake, but Lance finds that he’s too entranced by its fluid, purposeful climb over the thick padding of his suit to really pay that part any mind.

Keith, however, seems to have a different point of attention. As the creature stretches itself from Lance’s shoulder to his chest, Keith reaches forward tentatively, drawing a single finger over the trail that it tracks in its path.

He slowly pulls his hand away, grimacing as the slime stretches out in a long, stringy cord between his still outstretched and Lance’s amor.

“Disgusting.” Keith’s nose is crinkled up, his lips pulled back over bared teeth as he shakes his hand in a desperate, fruitless attempt to knock some of the goo off. “This stuff is  _ everywhere _ . But what is it?”

Lance almost antagonizes him for being too easily disgusted, even though his skin is still safe and clean beneath the impenetrable material of his suit gloves. He almost laughs at him and asks him if he never played in the dirt or the water as a kid, if his title as Black Paladin doesn’t mean that he’s too big and brave to be afraid of a few creepy crawlies that obviously mean no harm.

But then, abruptly, he’s startled out of his amusement at Keith’s expense by the introduction of another soft pressure pressing against his calf. When he cranes himself around to look at it, he can barely spot another spindly, dark blob prodding at his ankle. Its slick skin sparkles in the dim glow of Lance and Keith’s helmets. It isn’t nearly as hesitant as its twin had been earlier. It doesn’t poke at him as though asking for permission to climb up, and immediately, Lance is faced with a dilemma:

Should he start feeling nervous, or play it cool? 

How many more of these weird snake-worm-aliens are going to climb out of the shadows before the rest of the team manages to find the three of them trapped in here?

Is it really worth looking like a wimp in front of Keith if he starts freaking out, even though he still doesn’t feel as though he’s in any real danger?

“It’s weird.” Keith says absently, squishing the residual slime between his fingers and stretching it out, inspecting it closely as Lance fumbles with the added weight of a new worm-like creature crawling up his body. “This stuff looks just like the goo on the walls, but… this alien isn’t nearly big enough to coat the entire cave by itself, especially this freshly…”

Lance stumbles a little as the new worm slithers around his waist. The two of them are weighing down his left side now. One is wrapped around from his right side to his left shoulder, the other circling his midsection. The two of them don’t stop long enough for him to find solid footing, and for a moment, he worries that they might accidentally knock him into the water.

Shiro continues to talk to Allura from his helmet, some ways away. Keith has turned his flashlight back to the cavern walls, comparing the slime on his fingers to the glistening layer of it currently dripping down from the ceiling to the murky water at the floor.

Lance nearly yells when a third creature pokes against his calf. It doesn’t even pause for a moment before it begins the incline up his leg, and when it passes over the exposed material of his thighs—the gap between his padded armor where he can just barely feel its warm, soft body crawling over him—it dithers for a moment before coiling itself firmly to that spot. Lance attempts only now to shake them off. He still feels just a little bit guilty about it, because none of them have given him any reason within the last few minutes to be afraid of them, but he’s starting to get the feeling that more will very soon come. That they’re attracted to whatever they must smell on him, or sense in him, and he isn’t particularly eager to find out what they actually want.

But squirming just causes them to hold on tighter, and the gasp that’s forced out of his lips is one of pure surprise—one that he barely manages to bite off before it catches either Keith or Shiro’s unwanted attention.

He’s surprised and horrified into a sudden stillness when the creature between his legs reaches just far enough to press itself into the crotch of his suit. His cheeks immediately feel ten degrees hotter, and his skin skitters with a nervous energy when it doesn’t simply continue upward, climbing higher and higher as its brothers have, but instead stays firmly in place. It wriggles around in a very unnatural way, as though it isn’t actually a single, sentient being on its own. As though it’s a finger poking at him, and not a detached creature that might actually fall off and splash in the water if he manages to shove it off. 

He realizes suddenly that these worms aren’t three individual aliens. They’re the rubbery phalanges of the same hidden creature, hiding somewhere further off in the dark. His suspicions are confirmed only moments later, when Keith turns his flashlight to inspect something further along the wall, and Lance catches sight of the long, rolling bodies of the worms writhing in the water all the way into the farthest reaches of the cave that he can see.

If these aliens are only fingers, he decides that he doesn’t want to see the whole hand. And he definitely isn’t eager to meet the rest of the body. He doesn’t tell Keith that he’s cracked the code, either. No matter how terrifying the idea of a monster big enough to fill this whole cave with its skin secretions might be, he decides that his current predicament isn’t worth being witnessed just for the bragging rights that might come along with solving this mystery before anyone else. 

But this thought, as well, is cut short. It’s replaced swiftly by an unexpected hum of pleasure that washing over his suddenly heated skin. The finger—or tendril, or _ tentacle _ , whatever—between his legs is stroking him gently now. It seems as though it’s zeroed in on his sensitive spots, as though it has any way of understanding that touching him there will feel good for him.

He bites his lip to cage another gasp. The last thing that he wants right now is for either Shiro or Keith to see him like this, to realize that he really is an idiot who should have run far away from the first tentacle, the first chance he got.

He still feels as though he can get out of this on his own somehow, and he hopes that he can do so without tipping either of them off. But thoughts are coming to him harder now, clouded by a sudden urge to sit back and just let this happen. It’s no secret between the three of them that he’s the most sexually adventurous within their relationship, and while he’s joked frequently that he’d be willing to share a bed with just about any consenting alien, now he isn’t so sure.

It might be different if both of his boyfriends weren’t lingering so closely and unknowingly by him. He definitely doesn’t find this whole concept somehow more enticing than a reasonable, non-perverted person would.

And he  _ definitely _ hasn’t stopped struggling because he’s wondering how long it will take for Shiro to end his call, or for Keith to turn around. He isn’t wondering what Keith will do if more tentacles show up, and if this creature decides that one warm, human body just isn’t going to cut it anymore.

He tries not to think about all of the very questionable decision that he’s making at rapid speed now. He tries to fool himself into thinking that he’s actually fighting back, despite the fact that he only shifts his weight more fully onto both feet, bowing his legs in a way that allows the creature more access as it continues to rub him with those torturous, purposeful strokes.

He swallows deeply, flicking his eyes from the dark, roving stalks of the tentacles to Keith moving around behind the light of the flashlight, just a few feet away. He raises his hands, gentle and slow as to not jostle the creature too much, before drawing his fingers gradually from the thickest part of it to the curling tip. He can feel it shudder against him, just as the end of it comes up to wrap around his fingers. Something about this feels suddenly erotic. Something about the movement of it seems sentient, aware. As though it was just waiting for him to understand what it wanted to do, and now he’s given it the OK to move forward with…

He gulps again. Suddenly, he feels as though he can’t quite suck in enough air.

The highest tentacle draws away slowly. It hovers in the air in front of him for a short moment, before dipping forward, wriggling under the edge of his chest armor and tugging it up. Another one, lingering in the darkness just behind him, teams up with a few others to wrap around his helmet and pop it off, reassuring him with feeling more than any words or motion that the toxic atmosphere outside can’t reach the caves. Lance’s heart flutters in his chest. His belly feels as though it’s doing a dozen plus backlips. He turns his frantic gaze in Keith and Shiro’s respective directions, but neither of them seem even remotely aware of what’s going on yet.

He isn’t sure if he wants them to notice him yet or not. He doesn’t know if this new situation might be more erotic if they catch on early, or if he can leave them in the dark until the alien manages to get him completely undressed.

At the very least, this creature doesn’t seem interested in hurting him. Actually, it seems interested in doing pretty much the exact opposite of that, unless any second now it decides to use its strong writhing limbs to constrict around him like an anaconda. But having the breath squeezed out of him is not on Lance’s agenda for today, and it doesn’t really seem to be on this alien’s either. Not with the way it gently shoves up under the armor it’s worked so hard to get loose. 

The only layer between them now is his thin, skin-tight bodysuit, which might as well not be a layer at all for how closely it sticks to him. For what it lets him feel. Because as the tip of the tentacle creeps across his skin, he can feel its warmth, feel the unhurried progress of its explorations. It tickles a little bit, in a way that’s not overwhelming or uncomfortable. It feels warm, gentle. Polite? The one between his legs continues to stroke him softly as its friend traces along the lines of his ribs and chest muscles. 

But then it finds something a lot more interesting. 

Lance’s nipples are sensitive in the cold of the cave, and when the alien brushes over one it’s well-timed with a curious prod at his crotch. He can’t help the sharp inhale he sucks in through his teeth. 

“Lance, what—” 

Keith whirls towards him, and so does the beam of his flashlight, and they both freeze in place. Keith drags his eyes from Lance’s warm face, down his body, across all the tentacles crawling over him. 

_ Busted _ . 

“What are you doing?” Keith asks, though in Lance’s opinion it’s pretty obvious. He doesn’t say as much, though, because Keith still has his bayard in hand, and given the current placement of the tentacles Lance would prefer he didn’t start swinging it around right now. 

Lance doesn’t blame Keith for being alarmed, though. In fact, Lance figures he should probably be, too. The alien seems to have taken Lance’s gasp as a sign of pleasure and is now prodding at his chest with interest. Maybe someone a little bit smarter than Lance might consider this invasive, gross, weird, or dangerous. But well, if this alien likes sex, is Lance one to judge? He likes sex too. 

“We’re just getting to know each other,” Lance says, trying to play it cool and casual, which is the opposite of how Keith looks right now. 

“Getting to…,” Keith says. “Lance, we don’t know what that thing  _ is _ . Get out of there!”

“I, uh,” Lance says, pulling at his leg. The creature tugs back, in an affectionate way that Lance would go so far as to describe with the word “coy”. “I can’t? And honestly, I don’t know if I want to.”

“ _ Lance _ ,” Keith hisses, and takes a half-step closer. 

But Lance halts him by reaching out his unoccupied arm and laying his hand flat against Keith’s chest. 

“Look,” he says. “It’s not going to hurt me. I think we’re both just interested in having a little fun.” He looks down to where a fourth and a fifth tentacle are now encircling his thighs. “Isn’t that right, buddy?” 

As if in response, it reaches across his chest and gives his nipple a tweak. Fun. Yeah, that’s what this is. 

“You—,” Keith starts, before giving up with a frustrated huff. He shines his light around, but obviously observes nothing that addresses the millions of concerns that are clear on his face. “What if it’s trying to eat you?”

“Ha,” says Lance, half a laugh and half a pleased sigh. As he talks, the extra new tentacles are prying their way under his other armor pieces, dropping them to the floor with echoing  _ plunks _ as they separate them from his body. “I don’t really think that’s what it’s doing.”

This is apparently not a convincing enough argument, because Keith’s frown doesn’t subside. In fact, it grows deeper when the writhing appendages continue to circle themselves around Lance, two coiled around his thighs, one wrapped from his wrist to his shoulder, and one sliding around the circumference of his ribcage. What Keith doesn’t understand though is that none of them are tight. None of them feel threatening. All of them are warm and gentle.

And there is the one that’s still teasing, sending little jolts up Lance’s spine as it slowly rubs him up and down, up and down. 

“Here,” Lance says. “You try.”

He grabs Keith by the wrist and tugs him closer, and then encourages one of the tentacles around him to crawl to Keith instead. 

“No—,” Keith protests, but he watches without pulling away, eyes wide, as the the tentacle slides off of Lance’s arm onto his own. It quickly makes its way over him, mapping a route up his arm towards his shoulder.

“It’s warm, right?” Lance says. “Even just that feels kinda nice.”

“It’s probably trying to figure out how to devour me,” Keith grumbles, but he’s standing completely still as the creature explores his shoulder. Its tip then disappears behind his back. 

His flinch and choked sound a moment later tells Lance that it’s found one of Lance’s own favorite parts of Keith: his ass. It’s a creature of taste, clearly. 

“It’s, um,” Keith says, his mouth twisted uncomfortably. But his body language is much more relaxed than it was before Lance grabbed his wrist, so he counts it as a win. “Whoa.”

Lance is vaguely aware of Shiro’s voice in the background, still conversing with Allura over his comms. But more than that he can hear the shift of something large sliding through wetness. He doesn’t want to see what it is, but he already knows. It’s all over him. And now Keith too, as more and more tentacles converge on them, prodding at Keith’s ankles as though asking for permission. 

Keith makes no move to stop them as they begin to climb his legs like vines up a trellis. Lance smiles watching it, watching his boyfriend succumb to their soft motions and all the ideas of what this could mean for them. 

This honestly wasn’t on Lance’s list of things he’s wanted to try. Mostly because he didn’t ever know it was a possibility. But now...well, his list is flexible. He can add a thing or two. 

Keith clammers forward with just about as much grace as Lance did earlier, once the weight of the tentacles had begun favoring one side of his body in search of  _ something _ that Lance still isn’t completely sure of. He doesn’t know if this alien is capable of the rational thought required to plan so far ahead, to seek them out with the intention of sharing this experience with them, or if it’s more of an opportunistic hunter. But the fact still stands that it hasn’t exactly been secretive about what it wants from them now, and neither of them have given it any reason so far to believe that they aren’t completely willing participants.

He can’t help but wonder what Shiro will think of all of this, once he finishes his call. If maybe he’s already watching them from his quiet spot in the shadows, just waiting for the right opportunity to trudge forward through the water and join them.

That thought is interrupted abruptly by a small, breathy exhale that Keith hurriedly cuts off. There are four or more tentacles currently encircling him, winding around his torso and tucked further behind him where Lance can’t see. Two of them have his arms pinned just above his head, their spaded tips sliding up into his palms as though trying to hold his hands. In some semblance of intimacy that isn’t completely lost on Lance as his own set wriggle just under the collar of his suit. 

They pause there for a moment, but whether they’re waiting for permission to take things further or simply plotting the best course of action, it’s completely lost on Lance. Another pair of them are currently wrapping around the widest part of his thighs, tugging gently as though asking him if it’s okay to pull them up. He isn’t exactly excited to find himself immersed in the cold water, but he also isn’t in the right frame of mind to deny them anything that they might reasonably request from him. He wiggles about in place, struggling to communicate that all of the above is fine, great even, in his opinion, and that this one-sided conversation isn’t going to be convenient or appreciated by either of them once things start going further.

He’s possessed by a feeling that he doesn’t entirely understand when he’s lifted up. Partially, he’s impressed by the strength of this alien, when it manages to pull him from the ground and hoist him a little over a foot from the cave floor. And the other part of him might just be excited, he isn’t sure, and he sure isn’t taking the time to consider all of his emotions when there are much more pressing matters to attend to right now.

Like Keith—just a few feet away—being lifted by his own set of tentacles, undressed faster than Lance had been, until they’re gracefully tugging the top of his under-suit over his shoulders. Lance ignores the jealousy that pangs in his chest at the sight of it, the questions as to why this alien is so determined to get Keith naked while still taking its sweet time with him, but he doesn’t have to stew in those feelings for long. Because soon after, his own suit is being pulled down, and within his bindings, he does his best to assist it.

As the tentacles tug the bottom of his suit over his ankles, he’s met with perhaps the most charming sight that he ever could have imagined, when he dragged himself grumpily from the conference room at the Garrison to the Black Lion to embark on this mission in the first place. The tentacles have managed to undress Keith as well—and he can act snooty and oh-so pious all he wants. He can pretend that he’s only going along with this because he’s keeping an eye on Lance, and that he isn’t interested in where any of this is going at all.

But Lance gets a nice, full view of him, spread out, naked and bare in this dark cavern, with only the shine of his flashlight reflecting murky, distorted strands of light up to the ceiling from under the water, where the creature dropped his suit. He takes in Keith’s iridescent skin in the dark, how it seems to glow, almost, like pearls in the black shadows. Between his legs, among an unruly mop of tangled curls, his cock stands at attention, swaying lazily back and forth as the tentacles make a point, for a moment, of avoiding it. They’re drawing long, messy trails along his inner thighs, and Lance remembers that Keith likes to be teased there. He remembers many long nights spent tucked between Shiro and Keith—how he’d drag his teeth along Keith’s skin just to feel him quiver, how he’d kiss and suck at the vast expanse of those firm thighs until Keith was gasping and whimpering beneath him.

Keith is staring off distantly at something in the dark. Lance knows that he gets embarrassed sometimes, when they’re together intimately. He knows that Keith is still growing accustomed to being touched, that all of this is unusual for him. And he can’t imagine how foreign an experience this must be, no matter how scrambled and clouded by lust his feeble thoughts are right now.

But Keith seems to be enjoying himself, too. A couple of the tentacles have taken pointed tips to his nipples, swirling around them, at first, before encircling them. They’re tugging and prodding until they’re both stood, erect and flushed with color, and Keith himself seems to have been molded into nothing more than a pliable, twitching and shuddering pile of goo. 

Lance himself feels slack already in their hold. His body feels alight with the skitters of pleasure already scoring through him everywhere that the slippery tendrils touch. And just as Keith opens his mouth, just as one of the tentacles prods towards his face and he relaxes his jaw, letting it slip past, Lance feels a poke far below, just between his cheeks. It’s so foreign, so unexpected, that he lets out the most desperate, throaty whine that bounces back tenfold against the vast, empty recesses of the cavern.

“Lance, Keith—What—Oh my God, are you—what’s going on?!”

“Busted Part Two” feels a lot less dignified than the first one. At least with Keith, he’d had the ability to feel just a little bit smug about it. At least Keith had the decency to be disgusted, at first, instead of terrified. But Lance can hear Shiro rushing through the water, the glow of his arm illuminating the quick path that he takes to reach them. He seems to have ended his call early and without warning, and Lance hopes that his abrupt disconnection doesn’t add just a little bit too much urgency to the rest of their crew’s journey over here.

It would be a shame to cut this off before it gets even better, but right now, he needs to learn how to speak again so he can convince Shiro to chill out.

“I—it’s—it’s okay, Shir- _ oh _ —” His back arches, nerves aflame as the wriggly digit at his backside begins making slow, circling motions that he can’t for the life of him interpret as anything but teasing. “We—we’re fi— _ ine _ . I… It feels really good, Shiro.” 

His words sound more like moans than human speech. He can hear Shiro shifting uncomfortably in the water more than he can see his uncertainty. As though to punctuate Lance’s point, Keith chokes out a soft, muffled moan. Lance can’t make him out perfectly well in the dark, but he can barely decipher the black trunk of a tentacle doing something behind him, just between his thighs.

Shiro sighs. Lance feels just a little bit guilty for putting him in this position, but the feeling is washed away as another wave of pleasure crashes through him. The tentacle between his legs has started a slow prodding at him, as though testing just how tight he’ll be, how easily his body will welcome it inside. It takes every ounce of his inner strength not to shove back on it, to allow it to map him out and explore before forcing it to make things feel somehow even better than they already do.

Up front, two of the tentacles have begun circling his cock. Their shallow tips are wrapped around the base of it, loosening their grip as they venture upward, torturous and slow, purposefully manufactured to drag out this muted pleasure until he’s a wriggling, desperate mess, he’s sure.

Lance drops his head to the side, squinting in the dim light to make out as much as Shiro’s face as possible. His skin is illuminated in the blue hue of his prosthetic, his eyes trained on a single tentacle that’s loped through the darkness and is currently wrapping itself around the tip of his finger. It seems hesitant, and with good reason, Lance manages to think. Shiro might be the most capable of all three of them of tearing it to shreds without even breaking a sweat, and he definitely seems the most unsure about trusting it. 

Another tentacle crawls along Lance’s cheek, asking for permission to slide between his lips just as it had done to Keith just moments ago. By the wet sounds currently rattling quietly around them, Lance is sure that it’s enjoying itself just fine with Keith’s body, but he doesn’t know if Shiro will need further convincing, and if he’s the only one left to do so in the event that he does.

So he turns his head away from it, clasping his mouth firmly shut. To his surprise, it doesn’t fight him, and it doesn’t linger on his cheek for very long. It pulls away instead, seconds later, dropping down and slithering through the water towards Shiro.

Who, Lance is startled to realize, has wordlessly given it permission to begin climbing up his arm. 

“Lance,” Shiro says then, voice firm and unwavering, despite the fact that Lance can hear more tendrils already creeping through the water towards him, “When the others get here, we aren’t mentioning this, okay? They don’t have to know anything about it.”

Lance rattles off a laugh that quickly draws out in a long, breathy moan.

“L-like I’d wanna hear wh-whatever Pidge has to say about this.”

Keith makes a sound, something deep in his throat like a hum, and Lance isn’t sure if it’s a response to their conversation or a moan. 

“You’re okay, right?” Shiro says, his speech now a little bit breathless. When Lance takes a good look at him he realizes that Shiro isn’t looking at his face, or even the tentacles that are now skimming Shiro’s ankles, feeling out the length of his prosthetic. Instead his eyes are trained somewhere on Keith.

Lance can’t blame him. Keith always looks good with his mouth full, but this is somehow different from watching him go down on Shiro. His eyes are heavy-lidded and half-closed, the corner of his mouth trickling something that could just as easily be saliva as the wet, thick liquid that seems to coat the tentacles, the cave walls, and now also, their bodies. His pale skin is striped with the dark lines of the curling, reaching living thing that’s wrapped around him. 

“Just—,” Lance breathes in a shuddering gasp, “—get up here already.”

Shiro looks up at him, and then, with a visible sigh, lets his body go lax into the hold of the creature. 

With his prosthetic closer, Lance can see a lot more now. Its glow gives a soft blue tint to everything around it: the tentacles wrapped around it, the ones wrapped around Shiro’s thighs and his waist, the skin that’s becoming more and more visible as they pry off his suit as well. Its light is comforting, in a way. Even if things do go south here, Shiro has a built-in weapon. Way more useful than Lance’s bayard, which is at the moment resting in a puddle of alien goop lube on the ground. 

_ Ah _ , thinks Lance distantly, brokenly as the tentacles work their slick way across his bare skin, as the tip of one toys with him between his legs. That’s exactly what it is. Lube. 

He doesn’t have time to share his eureka moment with the others. Actually, now that he looks, he thinks they’ve probably figured that one out already. The ones around Keith are maneuvering him, tilting him further upwards. It only takes Lance a second to realize that they’re showing off. To him and to Shiro. Because they have Keith’s legs parted wide, and between them the head of one of the tentacles is buried inside of him, thrusting slowly. 

Shiro makes a choked-off sound, and Lance can really relate to that. 

“What are we doing,” Shiro says to himself, but then one of the tentacles runs over the thick outline of his cock where it’s straining against his underwear, his suit already having been disposed of, and he lets his head loll as he gasps. 

And Lance doesn’t know what to focus on. On one hand he can see Keith being worked from all directions, his lips wrapped around one appendage while another stretches him below, and another coiled around his cock. Or he can look at Shiro, who’s slowly being lifted into the air and pulled apart, the tentacles leaving wet trails across his skin. 

Or he can close his eyes and focus on his own pleasure. This one is tempting because he’s reaching a new plane of intensity here. Lance had thought he’d known a thing or two about having a lot of things going on at once. He’s used to four hands sliding all over him. He’s used to being enveloped in warmth on both sides. He’s used to being filled from both ends and stimulated all over. Having two partners gets you accustomed to that sort of thing, and given Shiro and Keith’s attentiveness, Lance never imagined he would possibly receive any more physical loving than what they give him. 

But this is a new level. This is more than anything he’s ever felt before. The tentacles are warm, like a human body, and their supple shape and curling ends cocoon him. It’s all around him, all over him. Coiled around his legs. His arms. His stomach. Wrapping him gently in their careful embrace, holding him steady as his hips buck forward, searching for more of that warmth. As he bucks backwards, too, trying to get the damn thing to stop  _ teasing _ already and slide inside of him. 

As if sensing his desperation, the narrow head breaches him. Lance sighs at the contact, trying to sit further onto it. But it’s careful, slow, nudging at his rim, widening him at its own leisure. He bites his lip, and almost wishes that other tentacle would come back for his mouth, if only to give him something to focus on other than how neither his cock or ass are being given  _ enough _ . 

He doesn’t get that, though. But what he gets is even better. The creature drags Shiro into his space, until they’re face-to-face. 

“Hah—hey,” Lance says. He tries to put on a grin, but he figures it must look a lot dopier than intended. He’s losing his motor controls, along with his breathing and his steady heart rate. 

“Hey,” says Shiro in reply, and he looks like a vision. He’s been stripped down to nothing as well, his pale, scar-striped body on full view. If that weren’t already enough to drive Lance wild, his thick, strong thighs, his biceps with their bulging, rippling muscles, his chiseled chest, they’re all restrained by ravenous tentacles. His cock juts out from his hips, its impressive length partially covered by two or three loops of the pumping appendages. A few others flirt between his legs, and Lance watches them for a moment to see what they decide to do. 

He feels a warmth touch his wrist that’s surprisingly dry, and when he glances back up he realizes with a start that it’s Shiro’s left hand. Automatically, Lance grabs it and slots his fingers between Shiro’s. Shiro gives him a squeeze. 

“You two look really, really good,” Shiro says. In the glow of his arm, the dark color on his cheeks is visible. 

“Look who’s talking,” Lance manages to reply. 

The creature seems to take their interactions as a sign that they’re okay with being close, because next thing Lance knows, he’s being pushed up against Shiro. There are still tentacles between them, but Lance can feel the movement of Shiro’s against him, Shiro’s slick skin sliding against his own, Shiro’s accelerated breathing against his forehead. 

Lance takes the hint. He tilts his head up, and Shiro meets him fiercely. It’s not like Shiro to be anything other than perfectly gentlemanly, but sometimes when he’s really worked up, Keith and Lance can manage to drag the passionate lover to the forefront. This seems to be one of those times. His tongue slides into Lance’s mouth, his head tilted for the best angle, and he sears a deep kiss into him. 

With a tug of his arm at the tentacles, Lance tests his freedom, but they hold firm. Okay, so running his hands down Shiro’s abs while they’re covered in tentacle alien lube is off the table right now, which is kind of a bummer. But somehow knowing that Lance is totally at the mercy of whatever this thing decides to do with him...actually makes up for it? He’s definitely never minded getting tied up, and this is just like that, except the ropes are warm and soft and slick and they’re also fucking him. 

He’s jolted from his thoughts by the addition of another firmly spaded head poking at the edge where its brother is already pumping in and out of him. And he’s met with the realization that this creature is going to take as much from the three of them as it possibly can if they don’t do anything to stop it. He’s never had more than one person in one hole at a time before, despite how often he’s joked about it. How often he’s pretended that he’s braver and more adventurous than he really is, but now, with Shiro currently occupying his mouth and the unyielding arms of this alien pinning him in place, he realizes that he’s left with only two potential paths here that he could take:

Pull away, make a scene, don’t be pushed to the furthest potential brinks of pleasure.

Or allow this to happen without making a fuss. To quietly accept this new development and finally live out the private, mortifying curiosity that he’s always allowed to linger at the edges of his thoughts after sex anyway. 

And then… what? He can’t think of a single downside to option number two. Because Shiro is far too distracted by whatever must be going on behind the thick wall of his body, beyond the lips that are puffing out telling, heavy breaths. And Keith himself, Lance can hear the mismatched squelching that he thinks might allude to something very intense going on over there as well. In his mind’s eye, he can perfectly envision Keith spread out wide to accept two or three tendrils deep inside of him. Keith’s always been more eager to ignore pain at the promise of pleasure. He’s always been much less of a wimp than Lance is. 

And in this moment, he seems to have lost himself completely, come unraveled completely, and fallen at the absolute mercy of the whims of this alien that, just moments ago, he’d been determined to chop to pieces.

Lance imagines that it’s less cosmic, karmic justice and more of this alien trying to prove itself to them. He’s far beyond the musings of this creature’s sentience at this point. He can tell just by the way that it hesitates before acting that it isn’t a blind creature seeking warmth in a frigid dark. But he wonders if it’s capable of such a steep level of problem solving: make the biggest non-believer see the true weight of its intentions. Incapacitate who it must have decided was the most risky among the three of them, if only so it wouldn’t have to worry about getting injured when all that it wanted was a little bit of fun.

But he’s thinking too hard about this, he knows. He’s also struggling to distract himself from his own mortification as a second tentacle slips inside of him and Shiro seems painfully aware of how much pleasure he’s in now. Because he’s gaping, open-mouthed, into their kiss. There are noises rattling out of him and bouncing lewdly in the empty air between them that would put even the most vulgar of Earth pornography to shame.

Lance knows that he’s the noisiest of their trio, but this is just ridiculous. He’s almost mad about it, almost tears himself away and bellows down the dark cavern for the alien to cut him some slack and stop making him look like such a pushover in front of his two very strong-willed lovers. But he’s stopped, of course, by the same pleasure that raises those noises in his throat. It just feels too good, when the tapered end of the tentacle plunges inside of him, when it wriggles within him, gliding against its twin and curling itself just as it strokes over his prostate. It’s maddening, far too in tune with what feels good. 

Lance remembers shopping online for sex toys once when he was younger. When he thought that they’d have more privacy at the Garrison than he’d had at home, with so many nosy relatives always eager to poke through his things. He remembers how he’d skimmed the listings for vibrators, flustered and perpetually peeking over his shoulder as though his mother would magically appear behind him and berate him for thinking about sex when he should have been studying for his entrance exam.

He’d stumbled across a toy that was supposed to move around inside of him. As a virgin then, he hadn’t been sure if that would feel better or not. And even years later, the first time that he found himself folded weak and boneless between Shiro and Keith, when he’d marveled at the idea of being filled by another person, he’d wondered if it would have been any better if either of their  _ equipment  _ was capable of moving around more. 

He has this answer now—brainless, slack and totally immobile. It’s fucking amazing. It’s the best pleasure that he’s ever felt. For a moment, he wonders if it’s possible for him to somehow get himself stolen away by this creature when they’re done, if only he can spend the rest of eternity coiled in this half-aware state of inordinate pleasure.

But there’s still a universe to save. He still has partners here who he loves very much. At the very least, maybe they can mark this planet on their intergalactic list of vacation spots once this Galra issue is finally taken care of. Maybe they can develop some kind of friends with benefits situation with the monster that takes residence down here.

Lance is startled when the tentacles abruptly pull Shiro away. He tries very hard not to compare this in his thoughts to how his sister used to take her dolls and shove their bodies together, how she’d smack them hard enough that their plastic abdomens would clack loudly, and she’d announce with an excited, shrill cry that they were in love and kissing. He doesn’t know if this isn’t more to this creature than a very weird game of “Barbie Dating”, like Veronica used to play, or if maybe it’s just trying to get a feel for what they want to do here. Maybe it sensed that Shiro would feel more comfortable opening up if Lance was close by. Maybe it just needed something to occupy Lance’s mouth since he’d rebuffed its attempts to slide past his lips just a few minutes prior.

But soon after, he watches in only half-coherence as Keith’s body is pushed further up, as it presses his knees together in a way that shoves another deep groan up through his occupied throat. The tentacle currently stretching his lips glides slowly out, leaving a thicker glob of glutinous liquid dripping from his mouth down to his chin. Keith chokes out a breath that might as well be another moan. He looks ragged now, strung out. He’s so lax in the grasp of this alien that he seems to be made of nothing but the same goo that’s slathered all over their bodies. 

He’s moving ever-closer. Lance’s brain fires off a few random synapses in blind directions before he realizes that it wants him to kiss Keith, too, just like he’d kissed Shiro. He isn’t sure if he’s grossed out by the goo or not, but he finds, when Keith is shoved just as closely as Shiro had been just moments ago, that not many things in the universe can stop him from wanting to kiss Keith. 

Weird alien goo-lube proves to be just another thing that won’t deter him. Keith’s half-awareness when their mouths find each other is another story altogether. He’s breathing hard now, as the tentacles inside of him pick up their pace, as they continue to writhe around inside of him in a way that’s just as unnatural and inhuman as it is completely intoxicating. They’re everywhere now. They’re tugging at his nipples, working themselves solidly over his cock. He feels as though not a single part of himself is exposed to the open air for more than a few brief seconds, and this feeling of being captured, of being owned by one beacon of pleasure for extended lapses of time—he feels drunk on it. He can barely find the strength inside of himself to speak, and when he does so, it comes out as nothing but a strangled gasp of air.

“K—Keith,” he chokes, “A—are you—are you okay?”

Keith whines, long and strung out. It’s a bubbly, tapered sound that causes Shiro to jerk just off to Lance’s side. He can see the movement of his blue-bathed skin just out of the corner off his eye. But Keith is looking at him now with glassy eyes. He’s always been stronger than this when the three of them are together. Lance has never been capable of unraveling him completely. It’s a sight to behold, as well. It feels forbidden to witness Keith sprawled out and twitching. He’s begging with every lax jerk of his rubbery limbs, with every groan and whimper. Keith’s mouth is dropped open, his brows knitted tight, close together. His cheeks are stained darker than the rest of his translucent skin. A single tentacle between his legs bats at his cock, sends it bouncing back and forth as it still refuses to touch him completely. It seems to know that Keith is a tough nut to crack. Lance isn’t sure how he feels about everything that this alien has figured out about them in so little time. 

When it does finally gather Keith in its hold, it comes as a slick surprise to Lance, who gets caught up in it as well. His hips are pressed closer to Keith’s as their cocks are pulled together by the same tentacle, wrapping itself around both. Lance can feel the warm rub of Keith against him, a slightly different texture, different heat, different surface than the appendages circled around them. It feels nice. It feels intimate, and it feels dizzying, and Lance almost finds it all too much to comprehend at one time. 

He makes the mistake of glancing down between them, and in the pale glow he can only make out their heads, pushed side by side, surrounded by the dark, slick coil of tentacle as the creature around their lengths strokes them slowly, up-down, up-down. Lance lets his head fall back with a moan, knowing he’ll never forget this moment. That image will be seared into his mind for all eternity. He’s going to be using this as wank material for years to come. 

Keith, too, seems to be experiencing a great deal of difficulty keeping himself together. When he moans, Lance can almost feel it in his own chest. His shuddering, accelerated breathing stirs Lance’s hair and Lance tries to focus on it to keep himself from floating away into the white empty expanse of bliss that is blooming inside his head. He’s inches from the edge of thoughtlessness, and the only thing tethering him here is Keith against him and Shiro at their side. 

A muffled moan comes from Shiro’s direction, and Lance looks over to realize that his mouth is filled too. That his legs are parted wide. His eyes are half-closed and glassy, and his lips are stretched wide around the creature exploring it. Lance wonders how much, exactly, he has stuffed inside of him. How hard the creature is thrusting into him.

As if these thoughts weren’t enough to have Lance aching, teetering, desperate, the tentacle that’s wrapped around him and Keith brushes over his head, and then presses against his slit. Lance nearly screams. It’s too much, it’s too little, it’s the best he’s ever felt in his life. His hips seem to move of their own accord, thrusting against Keith, pressing back, and everywhere at once Lance feels sparks flying through his body. 

He’s there. He’s so close. He never wants this to end, he never wants to not be in the hold of this creature again, he’s never felt so good. But he can feel it barrelling towards him, cresting, pulling together in his gut, his muscles tensing, breathing impossible and his moans climbing in pitch and volume. 

It breaks over him hard. Sightlessness covers him, white bursting as he shuts his eyes tight and throws his head back. His spine bends with it, his hips stuttering and his legs twitching and prickling heat blooming under his skin all over his body. Distantly, he hears himself moan. 

None of the movement around him abates at all through it, dragging it out of him. He can feel himself spilling over. It feels good, it feels good, until he’s suddenly seizing up. His eyes blink open to the darkness, and he lets out a whine at the overstimulation. 

Immediately, the tentacle tight around his cock loosens its grip. The ones inside of him pull away, leaving him with the feeling of something warm and wet lingering, spilling out down his thighs. 

It doesn’t release him completely. It keeps him still, Keith right before him, Shiro just slightly off to his side. They’re both moaning, their bodies moving and covered in wriggling tentacles. They’re both gone beyond any point Lance has ever seen them before. Eyes closed, bodies responsive, basking in the pleasure. Lance is grateful that he came first, so he could see this scene unfold in front of him. 

Keith suddenly goes quiet, his eyes clenched shut and his mouth slack and wide in a silent moan. Something wet and warm splatters against Lance’s abdomen, and Keith goes completely lax against the thing holding him up, boneless in its grip. He breathes hard as he blinks his eyes open, dazed and unfocused. 

His eyes land on Shiro first, and Lance follows his gaze. It’s not an accident, because Shiro is reaching his end as well. He moans pleased and low in a way that makes even Lance’s completely spent cock twitch again. He’s always beautiful, but right now he’s a work of art beyond Lance’s wildest imaginings, his limbs spread out, the line of his shoulders relaxed and not squared as they usually are. He seems to be enjoying himself, especially as he rolls through his orgasm.

A long moment passes where the only sounds are the three of them trying to regain their breaths, turn their heavy breathing into something managed and consistent. Lance feels like he’s hanging limply from the tentacles that are still wrapped around him, supporting him, but he realizes soon that they’re moving him slowly to the ground. The soles of his bare feet hit first, splashing in the puddles of alien goop that flood the floor, and though he’s weak-kneed and unsteady they balance him and encourage him to stand straight. 

His back aches and his ankles feel like they could give out from under him at any second, but he’s never felt better. He feels as though all the stress and tension has just been completely knocked out of him, like someone spent hours kneading out the knots in his back. But it’s deeper than that. There’s a mental peace that’s washed over him in the aftermath of his orgasm, and being here with his two favorite people and his new best friend the tentacle creature has him feeling all sorts of warm and fuzzy. 

He watches as Keith is similarly slipped to the floor beside him, completely unsteady on his legs and still naked. Lance reaches out an arm to give him something to lean on, but ends up balancing himself on Keith instead. Shiro is let down gently, his hair wet and slicked back with the creature’s slime, his eyes blinking slowly at the dark cave around him. 

“God, that was—,” Shiro says breathlessly. 

“ _ So _ hot,” Lance finishes for him. 

Around them, Lance can feel the tentacles retreating. He glances around and realizes they’re all rapidly disappearing back into the shadows. Okay, so it wasn’t dangerous. Maybe to their chastity, but Lance never had much of that anyway. 

“ _ No one _ else hears about this,” Keith says, staring Lance down as he regains his footing. “Got it?”

Lance blinks at him. “What are you looking at me for?”

Shiro snorts a laugh. “You  _ are _ the one who once told Hunk that Keith tied you to his bed for three hours.”

Lance grumbles to himself, and then bends to gather the pieces of his armor. It’s all soaked, and so is he, some sort of unidentified liquid still running down the inside of his thighs. But he doesn’t feel as cold anymore, and hopefully Allura will be here soon to get them. 

“We’d better get dressed,” Shiro says, seeming to come to that realization at the same time. “The story is we fell in an underground lake, alright?”

Keith nods resolutely, already pulling his bodysuit on over his legs. Lance goes to follow his example, the fabric clinging uncomfortably to his skin. 

“Just one question,” he says, grimacing a bit at the damp feeling. 

Shiro and Keith stop what they’re doing to look at him expectantly.

“Can we come back sometime?”

**Author's Note:**

>  **Moth** : This story is a very lovingly written birthday gift to our wonderful friend [Traffy](http://oneyedkaneking.tumblr.com)! Happy (early) birthday, Traffy!  
> When epiproctan came to me and suggested that we write something for Traffy’s birthday, of course I was immediately interested. I mean, collabing with the amazing epiproctan and writing something fun for a lovely friend? Talk about a dream, right? So this was a ton of fun, and I really hope you enjoy it! Thanks so much to Epi for allowing me to work on this project with her, and to everyone who might read it! <3  
> [tumblr](http://curionabang.tumblr.com), [twitter](https://twitter.com/MothIsland)
> 
> **Epi** : HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TRAFFY i hope you enjoy this even an eighth as much as i enjoy you, which would be a lot because you make me happy every day. also thank you moth for coming up with this lovely concept and doubleteaming our wonderful friend traffy with me <3 
> 
> [tumblr](http://epiproctan.tumblr.com), [twitter](https://twitter.com/epiproctan)


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